The Girl Who Cried Wolf
by Life's Crash Test Dummy
Summary: The Girl who Cried Wolf and the ones who believed her. It's a summer of exploding and healing because sometimes you have to completely shatter before you can start to build again. Ethan/Naomi/Silver friendship Post 2x22 Finale


**Title:** The Girl Who Cried Wolf  
**Disclaimer: **To be frank, I should probably have the rights to Ethan Ward since I basically rescued him like a baby from a dumpster that the CW just tossed out with yesterday's garbage, but alas, I own nothing.  
**Spoilers: **2x22 Confessions  
**Warning: **Mentions of rape, some language – reader digression is advised.  
**Notes:** Call this therapy. I do.

**Summary: **The Girl who Cried Wolf and the ones who believed her. It's a summer of exploding and healing because sometimes you have to completely shatter before you can start to build again. Ethan/Naomi/Silver friendship Post-Finale

* * *

"_You don't mind me holding your hand do you?" _

"_No, it's – no, it's fine…" _

Her eyes burn. She's pressed them so tight together for the last few hours (that feel like days) that it literally brings her pain. The colors behind her eyelids swirl and swirl until they fade and she forgets what it's like to see. Every muscle in her body is silently screaming and she hasn't said a word for days, barely even parted her lips for a breath. She just lies in bed, huddled beneath the covers, trying to stop her body from shaking – to no avail.

Her room is shrouded in darkness. The door is closed and the thick curtains are pulled securely over the windows, refusing entrance to even a single one of the sun's rays. One moment she'll feel safe in the dark, where no one can see her, no one can touch her. The next moment, she'll hear a sound, a creak maybe, one of those unexplainable sounds houses just make and then her eyes dart from side to side and her teeth cut deep into her bottom lip because what if he's here? She knows it's irrational, but, still, what if?

Jen storms in one day. Her hands are on her stomach that's starting to bulge and she's talking nonstop. Naomi doesn't know why she's here, but she doesn't care. Pulling the sheets over her head, Naomi presses her face into her pillow. She counts to ten, over and over again, trying to drown out whatever her crazy ass older sister is complaining about this time and (not) soon enough Jen leaves like it never even happened. Truth be told, Naomi just doesn't have the fight in her anymore.

Naomi Clark has lost all her will to live. It hurts to move, even more to think.

Most nights she wakes up, drenched in sweat, cementing her to her bed. Her throat is raw from screaming in her sleep, her subconscious need for release. There's the feel of _his_ hands still lingering on her skin, leaving her with a nauseous feeling heavy in her throat, a thick vine wrapped around her erratic heart, thorns burrowing deep.

One time she wakes up and the feeling doesn't disappear. She feels a hand firmly planted on her flat stomach, warm and firm. There's a heated breath on the back of her neck, a, "Surprised to see me?" in a husky voice drifting through her ears. It sends a wave of alarm from within buzzing outward and completely enveloping her. Her eyes snap open, the little invisible hairs on her arms bristle and she freaks the fuck out.

"Stop it! Stop or I will tell!" Naomi screams. She easily falls back into that night, that night after that stupid dance with the stupid candle lighting ceremony and the stupid couples, leaving Naomi Clark the odd man out. Then the stupid school made them take tackily decorated shuttles and her stupid car wouldn't start. It's almost as if the universe wanted this, that it was punishing her for her sins.

"Naomi, it's me!" a familiar voice somehow manages to break through her haze of fault.

A light snaps on and Naomi's been wallowing in the dark for so long that the sudden brightness makes her wince. Her shoulders are practically convulsing as she unconsciously tries to wedge herself into the corner of the room, backing up just to repeatedly knock into the wall. Her hands are balled into little fists though she knows it's hopeless. She didn't win last time and she doubts she will again.

Her eyes finally adjust and she sees the young man (the boy she once thought she loved) across the room, standing there with his hands up to show he means her no harm. Naomi has to blink once, twice and then a third time because if her eyes are playing tricks on her then this would be one of the cruelest hands she's ever been dealt (second, of course, to the night in the red dress).

"E—Ethan…"

"I'm sorry," he immediately apologizes. "If I knew you'd freak out like that…"

"No," Naomi murmurs. She drives her fingers through her blonde locks that have reverted back to their natural state – frizzy curls. Sitting in the corner of her room, certain she looks like a mess (after all, she's wearing sweatpants) this is the first time Naomi's felt self-conscious about her appearance in quite a while.

It doesn't help that Ethan Ward looks as gorgeous as ever. His hair is short and dark, but slightly curling at the tips, a faint hint that if he grew it out it'd be just as curly as hers. He's fit, broad shoulders and that perfect jaw. He still has some muscle definition beneath the sleeves of his simple, black t-shirt, but he doesn't seem as bulky as before. Naomi allows herself to ponder the idea of Ethan Ward, King Jock, putting an end to his sports career. The thought is almost laughable.

He has this look on his face and it only adds to Naomi's mortification. She wants to think he looks rather dim, his jaw hanging slightly and his dark eyebrows knitted together. Naomi wants to think it's just Ethan being a dumb jock, but then there's the nagging voice in the back of her head that argues that she's only seen that look on Ethan's face once before. It had been in their eighth grade history class, watching a slideshow about the Holocaust.

"What is there to tell?" he asks shakily.

Naomi looks away. "Ward, I have no earthly idea what you're talking about."

"You told me stop or you'll tell," Ethan clarifies. "What is there to tell, Naomi?"

"What are you doing here, Ethan?" she asks suddenly, defensively.

"What are you doing in bed at seven? It's hardly dark outside. Then again, you wouldn't be able to tell with how dark it is in here. What'd you do? Duct tape the windows? And it's like the arctic in here. Have you been running the AC all summer?" he asks. Ethan's rambling and the only time he rambles is when he's nervous. Naomi's nervous herself, but she shows no sign of it.

A tense silence creeps in. Ethan wrings his hands. Naomi doesn't even move a muscle.

"You weren't answering my calls or my texts," Ethan says. He always gives in first and they both know it. There's no use prolonging the inevitable. "I was worried…you know…about you…"

Naomi narrows her eyes in disbelief. "You flew all the way from Montana because you were worried?"

"And maybe for some family stuff," he tacks on, scratching the back of his head. "Look, whatever. I've been calling and texting you and you haven't been picking up. You never not pick up. I drove straight here from the airport. I thought something might have happened."

_It did_, she thinks, jaw clenched.

Her shoulders go up in a careless shrug. "Phone's dead. It's summer after all."

"Naomi, you're wearing sweatpants," he points out.

"Since when is that a crime? God, Ethan, get off my back," she huffs. Naomi looks up just in time to see Ethan flinch and his concern magnitudes tenfold. Seeing this, that stupid hurt puppy dog look he's unfairly perfected, Naomi sighs and stands from her crouched position. She smoothes her hands over her thin tank top and then her sweats as she slowly sits down on the corner of her bed. "Look, I don't mean to be a bitch, it's just…I…Liam broke up with me."

It isn't like she's lying or anything. Liam did break up with her, but he isn't the reason for the sweatpants, not this time around. She's looking down and playing with her fingers and she doesn't even have to look to know that Ethan's expression has melted. He's always been easy like that. He's always been blindly trusting and a tad bit naïve in that way. Naomi doesn't think she deserves to have him, but here he is, and it doesn't look like he's going anywhere.

"At first I wasn't sad. I didn't even cry." She lets out a bitter laugh. "We were drifting and we both felt it, but neither of us wanted to admit it. I figured Liam and I always break up. It's what we do. It wouldn't be long until we patched things up, but then I was there at the dance and it seemed like everyone had someone except me and the only one I had to blame was myself."

She feels her eyes burning because her mind wanders past that moment. All she wanted was to go home.

"You're too hard on yourself, Naomi," he says softly. As much as she wants to believe him, all Naomi can do is slink back into bed and crawl beneath the covers. She looks at Ethan, lounging in the chair at her desk. "I missed you, you know?"

His words, that sincerity, bring tears to Naomi's eyes, because there's this sort of invisible barrier between them. Ethan must sense it too because he doesn't dare to try and come closer. On any other given day, he'd already be in lying beside her, tickling her, trying to make her smile. His muscular arms would draw her in and hold her close and she'd feel safe. It scares her to realize, she doesn't even know the meaning of the word anymore.

…

Ethan comes back the next day and the next day and the next day. It's like clockwork. He'll invite himself in, coffee and breakfast croissants in hand. Her room is still dark and cold, curtains shut and AC blasting. She'll still be in bed, pretending to sleep, but secretly staring into the void. He'll bug her about going out and she'll tell him he can go out by himself, but he never does.

Mostly they just talk.

They talk about everything and nothing at the same time. He tells her about the girls he dated in Montana and Naomi decides on her personal favorites – the crazy one that said "I love you" at the end of the first date or maybe the one whose dad pulled out an actual rifle when he caught them making out. She tells him about fighting for Liam, how she put everything on the line for that boy and he didn't even bother to fight back.

Ethan lets on that he's joined the lacrosse team out of pity because they're so damn bad at it so he doesn't have to try so hard. Everyone's already in awe that he can actually hold a lacrosse stick the right side up. Also, Montana's different from California in the way that being on the lacrosse team doesn't mean an instant skyrocket to high school popularity (now if your dad has a tractor, that's a different story entirely) and, surprisingly, being treated like everyone else is just what Ethan wanted.

Naomi talks about Jen's pregnancy and Ethan laughably mentioned how he ran into her, walking up the driveway just as the older Clark sister was leaving. She had purred something, a flirty twinkle to her eye and Ethan had only stared down at her baby bump and kept the little run-in short. Apparently, unborn children are a turnoff. Naomi might have actually smiled when Ethan retold this tale.

Naomi doesn't dare to leave her room because she knows it. She knows where every single thing is. She can see every part of the room from where she lies in bed. Her room is a controlled environment and that's the one thing Naomi desperately craves. Ethan is quickly becoming a staple in her day to day life, a constant, just enough contact with the outside world. The more she thinks about it, the more comfortable she becomes with the idea. Still, she can't help, but wonder why.

"So what are you really doing here, Ethan?" she asks one day.

"Love you, Nay, but I'm kinda getting sick of that question," he says playfully.

"No. Seriously. And I mean here, with me," she explains. "Shouldn't you be spending time with your mother or Steven? I'm sure they're dying to make up for lost time. What about the beach? You love surfing. Have you gone at all? Why would you choose to hang around boring ol' me every day?"

"Geez, Naomi, it sounds like you're trying to get rid of me or something," he says jokingly. Naomi simply tilts her head to one side and gives him a pointed look. Ethan knows he can't hide behind a grin forever. "I was walking around the pier the other day and it's like a completely different world out there. It doesn't feel like home at all. Truth be told, I came back because I want to feel like _me_ again and lately that only happens when I'm here with you."

Naomi swallows hard. When did he get so sweet?

"Are you hitting on me, Ward?" she asks, trying to smiling and pretending she doesn't know it's a fail.

Ethan laughs anyways. "And willingly jump back into that vicious cycle we had going? I think I'll pass."

"Good." Naomi turns onto her side and curls her legs up beneath the sheets, lying close to the edge of the bed, where he's sprawled out on her floor. "You were a completely shitty boyfriend, but you're a really good friend."

"Thanks…I think. I'll try to remember that," he laughs again.

Ethan tucks his hands behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. Naomi watches him thoughtfully. She'd never vocalize it, but she thinks to herself, _the closest to okay I've ever gotten is when I'm with you._

…

Ethan's so easy to read it's ridiculous.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

Naomi's hanging over the side of her bed, her arm limply swaying from side to side. She looks at Ethan who's sitting on the floor, unscrewing the top of a bottle of blood red nail polish (like the dress she threw in the trash) just to screw it back on and repeat the process. He seems more reserved than usual. She had expected him to making his presence known in the most annoying way possible upon arrival. Instead, he came in, smiled and sat down.

"Why aren't you bugging me to get out of bed?" Naomi asks bluntly.

He simply shrugs. She sees right through him. Ethan Ward might as well be a window.

"What happened?" she demands.

Ethan gives in way too easily (he always does with her).

"I saw Silver today," he confesses.

"And?" Naomi asks, her voice rising a little in excitement. Ethan looks up at her, shocked. That's the most emotion she's showed in weeks. She merely gives him a stern look, eager for an explanation. "Did you finally talk to her?"

"She was with some blonde guy," Ethan goes on. Naomi groans and withers back into bed. That's a no.

"Oh."

"What did you expect me to do, Naomi?" he asks expectantly. "Just walk over and be all like 'hey Silver. Remember how I totally kissed you after prom and ran off to Montana and never came back? Yeah, good times. So how's your summer?'" Ethan sighs and leans back against her bedside table.

"If I wasn't feeling so shitty I'd probably tell you something like 'anything is better than nothing', but alas I am in a shitty mood," she says. Naomi lets her eyes fall close, but then it's too quiet. She opens them again and sees him still playing with that nail polish. She'd snap it away from him if she had the energy.

"She looks happy…"

"She is," Naomi assures him. She's certain it isn't something Ethan wants to hear, but it's the truth so she's going to say it. With all the lies she tells him, she needs a little truth to tip the scale of things. "Ethan, please don't tell me your real reason for coming home for the summer was some incredibly cliché, slightly romantic extremist's way of trying to win her back."

"I didn't come home just for Silver," he says directly. Naomi doesn't even try to look surprised. "I came home for you too and my mom…"

"But mostly Silver," Naomi knowingly adds. It makes things almost bearable, honing in on Ethan's life problems and ignoring her own.

"So that's the universal question then, huh?" he asks. "Do I fight for her, which would make me feel better, but probably ruin her life or do I swallow my feelings _again_ and let her be happy?"

It's a weighty question.

All Naomi can do is roll over and murmur, "The universe sucks."

Ethan chuckles. "No kidding."

He looks so sad and for a moment Naomi can feel her anger starting to boil up within. What right does he have to be sad? He's moping over a girl and Naomi will admit Silver's pretty awesome, but at the end of the day she's just a girl. There are people in third world countries, dying of starvation and oil out in the ocean that everyone seemed to have forgotten about after it dropped from Twitter's trending topics and…and men who overpower women with whispers of, "You wanted this."

"Naomi, you still here?" Ethan's voice breaks her train of thought and she's glad for it.

"Barely," she replies. It's the most honest she's been with him all summer. He nods, looking back down at the bottle of nail polish. Naomi makes a big fuss and shuffles across her bed to the other side, clearing her throat to grab Ethan's attention. She looks from him to the empty side of her bed and back to him. It's an invitation.

Ethan smiles and takes up the nonverbal invite, slowly climbing into bed beside her. They lie there, parallel to one another, Naomi beneath the sheets and Ethan atop. She stares up at the white plaster ceiling and he stares over at her. He makes no move to touch her, to move any closer and Naomi's glad that if anything, he knows how to read her moods and respect boundaries. Honestly, she doesn't know what she might do if he tests that.

"So have you come to a decision?" she asks.

"I guess," he replies. "I messed up and there's no going back from that. Knowing she's happy, even if it's with some other guy, I don't want it to be enough, but it has to be. I guess we all have to live with our choices and consequences, huh?"

_I didn't have a choice,_ her mind hisses violently, but all her mouth can manage is a subdued, "I guess."

…

Ethan's in a foul mood and Naomi's tipped off to it before he even comes into her room. She hears the unnecessarily loud thump of his footsteps coming up the stairs and he shoves her bedroom door open with such force that it goes flying, nearly cracking against the back wall. He looks pissed. Naomi isn't quite sure what it's about and not being able to read him in this moment, it's almost frightening.

"Naomi, get up."

"Screw you, Ethan."

"Seriously, yesterday was the last day," Ethan says. He grabs the curtains and shoves them aside, allowing the sunlight full access into her room. Naomi groans beneath her covers and Ethan marches right up to her and yanks them off.

"Ethan, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I just saw Liam," he says. Ethan looks all worked up, fists shaking and eyes narrowed. He's acting like it's physically impossible for him to stay in one place for too long and Naomi only rolls her eyes. "Do you know who he's hanging out with?"

"I could care less," Naomi mumbles into her pillow.

"Annie Wilson," Ethan continues. "Annie, Naomi. Kansas _Annie _(really, is there any other?). You're here, hiding out in your bedroom, and that guy is out there right now, doing whatever with Annie Wilson like you two didn't just break up. He isn't worth it, Naomi. And I'm going to show you that. Come on, we're going out."

"Ethan, this isn't necessary."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"He's just some guy, Naomi."

"No, he's not!" Naomi yells. She's sitting up in bed now, on her knees. She's hugging a pillow tight to her chest and her glazed eyes are slits of fear and pain. Ethan takes this all in and Naomi's about to go back to lounging in bed when Ethan moves towards her and roughly grabs her wrists. Her eyes widen and she starts to tremble.

"Ethan, let go," she commands. Her voice is harsh. The shaky state her body's in betrays it.

"No."

"Ethan…you're hurting me…"

"Naomi, it hurts me to see you like this. To be honest, I hardly recognize you anymore, Nay," he says with such a strong sense of sincerity. His eyes are just begging her to let him in and she can barely look at him. "What is wrong with you? I can't spend the rest of the summer pretending, like I can't tell something happened. Don't you see? You aren't falling apart, you've _fallen_. I can't help if you won't talk to me."

Her lips part and all that really comes out is a chocking sort of sound.

"Naomi, it's me, Ethan," he says, softer this time, begging. "You can tell me. Please tell me."

"I – I was…I was raped…"

And that's the moment where Naomi really feels the thud of hitting rock bottom. The tears are streaming down her cheeks and her shoulders drop and her entire world starts spinning. Ethan's hands are still on her wrists though the pressure's gone. Her eyes are flooded with water and she misses the way the color drains from his face, how sympathy surfaces only to be wiped away clean and replaced with unadulterated rage.

"Who?" he asks, a severe whisper.

"E—Eth—an…"

He swallows his anger and moves to sit beside her on the bed. Her entire body goes limp and he gently lets go of her wrists. He's surprised when she leans into him, her face planned against his shoulder. Her arms rest at her sides and as much as he wants to pull her close and hold her tight, Ethan refrains from doing so. He thinks back to his first night back, the way he wrapped his arms around her and she basically leaped across the room. The last thing either needs is a repeat.

"Are you hurt?" he asks tenderly. "Do you need to see a doctor?"

She shakes her head. It's been too long already.

They just sit there, Naomi sobbing into his shirt and Ethan taking up a reverent silence. She's having trouble breathing, suffocated by her sobs as if her lungs are simply rejecting oxygen. Her body, almost skeletal from the way she's let herself go, the way she doesn't eat unless Ethan's feeling thoughtful and brings her something, won't stop shaking. It's the first time she's said the words and it leaves her mouth completely dry. She feels she's going to be sick, but hopes against it. The bathroom is so far. Everything is so far.

Everything, expect Ethan, that is. He stays planted right at her side. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. Even if he could, he wouldn't know what to say. There's this ache in his chest, just looking at her. He doesn't think about the meaning behind her words, what it represents, because he's sure it'll just send him into a blinding rage. Instead, he focuses on the present, the here and now, where his best friend, the strongest person he's ever known, Naomi frickin' Clark, is in shambles.

When Naomi finally manages to speak, Ethan wishes she didn't.

All she can manage to sputter over and over again like a broken record is, "I—I'm th—the g—girl wh—who cried wolf…n—no one w—will believe…me…n—no one…n—no one…"

It's a haunting mantra and it makes Ethan break along with her.

…

The next day, Naomi's eyes are already on the door, waiting for Ethan's grand entrance. A part of her is afraid he won't show up because, yeah, Naomi Clark comes with baggage the size and weight of a duffel bag stuffed with a dead body. She really wouldn't blame him if he stops coming, if he decides to salvage the rest of his summer and surf away his worries. He couldn't handle her the first time around, why would he try a second time, especially now, knowing what he does?

Alas, her bedroom door opens and there's Ethan, trying to balance a stack of DVDs in his arms.

"What are those?" Naomi asks, a bit skeptical.

Ethan walks over and lets the tower of cases spill across the foot of her bed. He seems out of breath, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Panting, he murmurs, "That staircase is a killer."

"Not the answer I'm looking for, Ward," she replies. Naomi wants to pretend like yesterday didn't happen, that she didn't probably ruined his shirt with salty tears and poured her heart out to him until four in the morning. She won't mention it happened at all, but knowing Ethan, he will.

"Every lame romantic comedy you forced me to watch with you since the eighth grade. We're having a movie marathon," he replies. Ethan won't mention it, but he spent a good portion of his morning checking out each and every one on IMDB, making sure they're all safe to watch. He knows _Moulin Rouge!_ is one of her favorites, but he vetoed it. Damn that creepy Duke.

"You hate romantic comedies," she points out.

"Yeah, but today isn't about me, is it?" he replies. She shifts and he slides into bed next to her.

"Ethan Ward, did I ever mention I'm glad you came back?" Naomi asks, fighting back tears.

Ethan contemplates teasing her for it, but only smiles and whispers, "You just did."

…

He wants to kill this Cannon guy.

Ethan hates how he doesn't know where the guy lives or what he even looks like. When they were halfway through _The Breakfast Club _and Naomi bitterly rambled on about a dream she had where they were in detention and paralleled the characters (a criminal, a princess, an athlete and a basket case; Liam, Naomi, Ethan and Silver), he had spotted her yearbook on the floor. His fingers were itching to grab it, his eyes desperate for a glimpse, but he knew Naomi wouldn't allow it.

Ethan knew he'd end up on Silver's doorstep at one point this summer, but never for this reason.

She's laughing as she pulls the front door open, but then her eyes meet his and that smile she's wearing completely fades. Christ, she might as well stab him in the chest and twist the knife.

"Ethan," she says. The sound of her voice, the one that's haunted him for so long, only intensifies his need to be close to her. It only reminds him of how much he's missed her, of what he's been missing out on.

The temptation to pull her close and just kiss her like he'd done the last time is stronger than it's ever been before. It's then that he notices how the strap of her tank top has been pushed off her shoulder, her hair is a mess, her lips swollen and the gloss smeared off. He isn't stupid. He can take a hint. His eyes move to the mat beneath his sneakers and he takes a step backwards.

"Hey…your hair…it's short."

She's looking up at him like _no shit, Sherlock,_ and Ethan feels idiotic.

"Right, Ethan, now isn't a good time…"

"We need to talk," he says quickly.

She narrows her eyes. "Did you not just hear me?"

"Okay, your boyfriend can wait five minutes. It won't kill him," Ethan bites. He's feeling even more idiotic because now Silver looks pissed off. He rubs a hand over his face before making a second attempt. "Please, Silver. Just five minutes, I swear. Then I'm gone."

He regrets those last three words and it shows all over his face.

Her head turns to the side with an almost apologetic expression, before she steps outside and closes the door behind her. Ethan moves nervously to the front steps and sits down though Silver doesn't follow him. She leans back against her front door and watches him with caution, arms folded across her chest, an expression so guarded.

"What is there left to say, Ethan?"

"Look, this isn't about us, alright?"

"Right," she says, throwing her head back. "You didn't stay long enough for there to be an _us_."

Ethan winces, partly because of her sharp tone and partly because he knows she's right.

"It's about Naomi," he says because he promised this would only be five minutes and he's already disappointed this girl enough times. "When's the last time you talked to her?"

Silver's icy exterior thaws a bit at the mention of her best friend.

"It's been a few weeks. Actually, we haven't really talked since that party. She sent me a text right when summer started, something about how glad she is Teddy and I got back together and how she understands if I spend a lot of the summer with him, hashing things out."

"And you didn't find that sort of weird? You haven't even thought to check-in on her? What kind of friend are you?" By the look on her face, things are about to get heated again and Ethan racks his brain for an appropriate change of topic. "What about Adrianna? Naomi told me the three of you got really close this year."

"She's on tour," Silver replies. "She left right when the summer started. Ethan, is something wrong?"

Ethan wants to tell her. He wants to tell Silver about everything, about what happened to Naomi, about how broken she is and how he doesn't know how to piece her back together. He knows Naomi won't like it and it isn't his place to tell. On the other hand, Silver probably owns a yearbook and she's probably willingly give it to him when she hears the whole story.

"Something is wrong," he says vaguely. He presses his face into his hands for a moment, trying to sort through his conflicting thoughts. "I just…she's hurting, Silver, and I…I want to help her, but I don't…I just feel helpless and I hate it."

"Ethan, what's going on?" she asks.

"She has to tell you herself," he replies. "Just do me a favor and talk to her, alright?"

Ethan feels his fingers just aching to reach out to touch her. It's pathetic how many nights he's dreamt of her, how much class time he's spent thinking about the next time he'd see her and it's here and it's now and none of it going how he scripted.

Silver looks at him as if he's transparent and all she has to do is look past that jaw and those eyes and she'll see everything he's thinking. She's practically squinting and it isn't working. All she sees is how sad and frustrated he is. As much as she wants to, as tempting as it is to have him standing here in front of her for the first time in so long, Silver can't let herself fall for this, for him. Not again.

"Alright, but for Naomi, not you."

Ethan nods. "Fair enough."

Silver doesn't think she meant to hurt him when she said it. He looks just fine when he replied. It's the glimpse she gets of his face when Teddy beckons her back. It's almost as bad as how he looks when she walks inside and shuts the door without even a goodbye.

…

Ethan can't believe his eyes when he finds Naomi all dressed up one day.

The curtains are pulled back and the room is still cold, but at least it's bright. Naomi is sitting on the corner of her bed in a white sundress. It's a little longer than her usual ensembles and a wrap covers her shoulders. Her blonde tresses have been straightened and makeup carefully applied to her eyelids and her pink lips. Her expression is still weary and distant, but at least she's trying. Ethan will take any bit of progress he can get.

"Wow," he whistles. "You look…"

"Clean?" she supplies cheekily.

"I was going to say beautiful, but that too," Ethan nods. "What's the special occasion?"

"Better questions," she says with blunt avoidance, "Have you been to the beach at all since you've been back?"

"Even better question," Ethan counters. "What are you up to, Naomi Clark?"

"I'm allowed to sympathize with lesser beings much like yourself ever once in a blue moon, aren't I?" she asks. There's a big turquoise ring on her finger and she nervously twists it around and around. She sighs and looks up at him, a soft fondness in her eyes. "You've been really good to me, you know?"

"Naomi—"

"I mean it, Ethan," she says firmly. There's this look in her eyes, just daring him to interrupt her again. Ethan sighs and it's almost enough to make Naomi feel triumphant. "I can't help, but feel like I'm wasting your summer."

"You don't have to do this for me," he breathes.

"It's not just for you," Naomi assures him. "Please, Ward, I don't know what voodoo spell you had me under all throughout our adolescence, but rest assured, you are not the sun. I just…I don't want to hide anymore. I'm done being scared."

Ethan only gives her a nod and holds out his hand. Naomi gives him a coy smile before sliding hers into his, their fingers tangling. They walk down the staircase, side by side and he's sure to pull the door open after shooting her one last look as if to ask, _are you sure?_ And Ethan gets his answer when she boldly takes that first step outside.

The moment the sunbeams touch her skin, Naomi feels goose bumps all up and down her arms. Her fingers tighten their vice-like grip on Ethan and he squeezes back to assure her he's there. He guides her to his rental car and makes sure she's securely bucked in before shutting her door. Naomi sits, shoulders curled in on herself, hands in her lap. It feels so strange to be outside, almost like venturing into another world.

Ethan reverses out of the driveway and shifts gears before he takes her hand back in his. They go to grab a bite at the Pit and surprisingly they don't run into anyone significant. There are kids from school everywhere, watching the former King and Queen of West Bev, strutting around, hand in hand, acting like they're the only two people in the universe. There are whispers and stolen glances. It makes Ethan smirk and Naomi feel, if only for a moment, they're transgressing back to the good ol' days that really weren't very good, but not bad either.

They're in the parking lot, ready to hit the beach, when Naomi freezes and her hand practically hardening in his. Naomi looks up at Ethan, a visible twinge in his jaw, darkened eyes moving around wildly. There must have been something big to elicit such a reaction from Naomi and only one reason comes to Ethan's mind.

"Which one is he?" Ethan asks, so cold, so demanding.

"No. Not him," Naomi says. "_Them_."

It's Liam and Annie, sitting at a bench across the street. They look miserable. Liam is hunched over with his face buried in his hands and Annie looks on the verge of tears, struggling with the mental battle of whether or not she should even try to comfort him. She reaches her hand out, to rest on his forearm, then freezes, then reaches out again, this time to touch his shoulder, but something stops her again. Naomi wants to think it's the though of her that's stopping Annie from moving in on her ex-boyfriend, that maybe she learned from past mistakes.

Her hand finally comes down on his bicep and Naomi scowls.

She feels that rage again, that monster that's taken root in her very being and that has been slowly devouring her from the inside out. She wonders why Liam and Annie look so upset. What could have possibly happened in their trivial little lives that could be so bad? Did they lie to countless people to save the boy they loved just to get caught in said lie and for said boy to leave anyways? Did they almost ruin a man's life with words just for him to shatter their souls with force and tainted intimacy?

No. Naomi scowls again. They have no right.

"Nay!" she hears a voice from behind. Naomi gladly lets it break her thoughts, pull her back up from that dark place, a step away from the monster, a much-needed breath of air. She turns and blinks and there's Silver with the tall tennis player trailing behind her. It's Ethan's turn to give her hand a tight squeeze.

"Silver," she acknowledges.

"Where've you been, stranger?" Silver asks. There's a forced airiness to her voice and Naomi can easily see how her best friend is trying so desperately hard not to look over at Ethan.

"Well, you know how the summer can be. Since Dictator Wilson locked us up in summer school for the majority of last summer, I've just been making up for lost time," Naomi says casually. She's unnerved by Silver's eyes, those cerulean orbs that seem to be begging to know, '_why are you lying to me, Nay?'_

Taking a deep breath, Naomi turns to Teddy and smiles. "Roddick."

"Good to see you too, Naomi," he nods back. "So are you going to introduce us to your boy of summer or what?"

_Oh, Clueless Teddy, like Ethan and Silver need an introduction, _she thinks immediately. Naomi can almost imagine the look of appall on Silver's face had she voiced her thoughts. That would sure to wipe away Silver's concern in a heartbeat. It would also result in Silver getting pissed off and Naomi simply doesn't have the energy or the patience to deal with that right now.

"Teddy, this is Ethan, Ethan, Teddy," Naomi says lazily. "Teddy just transferred to West Bev this last year. Ethan, here, got tired of us spoiled little rich kids and went off to Montana, but he's visiting for the summer."

"Nice to meet you." Teddy holds out his hand, wearing that winning grin.

"You too," Ethan replies, shaking his hand.

Naomi hears the tightness of Ethan's voice, the tautness in his hand. She can even feel the tension that's surrounded them like a thick, invisible fog. Silver's finally given up on her course of action, finally looking over at Ethan, the questions and confusion are radiating off her in waves. Teddy knows too little. Naomi knows too much. Then there's the two who are just staring.

"Well, it was nice running into you two, but we should be on our way," Naomi says, because it seems like no one else would. She gives Ethan's hand a little tug and then he's looking down at the ground. The Sad Sam look should be left to little plush dogs, not the sack of muscle and angst she calls her friend. Being a friend and a good one at that, Naomi knows she needs to get him away. "Silver. Teddy."

"We should hang out," Silver says suddenly, her focus back on Naomi.

"Sure," Naomi replies, no commitment in her voice.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," Teddy says. It's almost sad how the poor guy is completely oblivious. Ethan does manage a weak smile and a wave before Naomi completely drags him off.

"Well, wasn't that all awkward and unnecessary?" Naomi muses as they walk to Ethan's car.

"Yeah, it probably would have been smarter to start small, especially for your first day, maybe somewhere where we wouldn't run into…all of that," Ethan says. "Fiji would have been good or maybe the Bermuda Triangle."

"Hmm, I can't say I enjoy Silver and you and your whatever," Naomi notes.

"That makes two of us," Ethan sighs. "Seriously, what was I thinking?"

"You weren't," she says quickly. "You've always been action before thought. I know because I'm the exact same way."

…

"Silver, how did you get in here?"

"How else? The door. I knocked and your _boy of summer_ answered it," the dark-haired girl replies. She's standing in the doorway, looking in on the mess that Naomi calls her room. She can't help, but to notice how there are jeans and t-shirts and flannel shirts spewed all around. They're all too big for Naomi and not at all her style. It has to be Ethan's. Silver has to ignore the fact that she's somewhat bothered. "I think he's downstairs making himself a sandwich right now."

Naomi groans, flopping in bed. "Just FYI those were Teddy's words, not mine."

"So did you two get back together or something?" Silver asks softly, almost with fear of the answer.

Naomi laughs a cynical, chilling sound. "Why so interested, Silver?"

"I'm not." Silver grits her teeth.

"And just answer your question," Naomi drawls, "no, we're not."

"And I'm not interested…not really."

"Can you please just go downstairs and talk to him?" Naomi asks exasperatedly. "Our last run-in was beyond awkward and I didn't enjoy it one bit."

"Yeah," Silver sighs in recognition. "Teddy started asking questions."

"Did you tell him?"

"What is there to tell?"

Naomi groans once again. "Need something, Silver? Otherwise your options are you can either go finally clear things up with Ethan or leave. You're interrupting my mid-afternoon nap. It's your choice, but I'd really prefer you pick the former."

"What's going on, Naomi?" Silver asks suddenly, seriously. "You…you seem…there's something different. And don't blame this on your break up with Liam because we both know that's a copout."

"Did you see him with Annie? What a cute couple, right? They look like something straight out of the pages of Romeo and Juliet or something. Shakespeare would be delighted." There's a bite to Naomi's voice, a bitterness that crept in without intention. "I'm tired, Silver."

"Tired of what?"

"What kind of question is that?" Naomi snaps. Her patience is wearing.

"Naomi."

"Silver."

"Don't pretend everything is okay, alright?" Silver bursts. The superficiality of this conversation is even taking a toll on her. Silver walks deeper into the room and Naomi squares her shoulders. "I've known you since the third grade, Naomi. I. _Know_. You. So I'm not leaving until you talk to me, really talk to me."

"Why? It's not like you'll believe me. You sided with him last time. You probably will again," Naomi says. She knows she's slipping, but she just can't seem to care at this point.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I want you out," she says, going into a panic. Silver looks stunned. "Ethan! Ethan, get her out!"

"Naomi, quit being dramatic," Silver hushes her.

"Oh, I'm being dramatic, Miss Bounces from Boy to Boy!" Naomi shouts. She's losing it and she's about to say some things she doesn't mean, but it comes along with those walls of hers. Silver's getting too close and Naomi's too scared. "Maybe it's a good thing you're too afraid to face Ethan. What would that make him, huh, boy number three of this year?"

"Stop making this about me," Silver says. She doesn't look as pissed off as Naomi had hoped. There's concern glazing those cerulean orbs and Naomi literally feels an ache in her chest. "What happened to you, Naomi?"

It's different from the last time when Ethan confronted her, got up in her face and was persistent until she finally caved and told him. Silver isn't screaming at her, but there's the same overpowering hunger in her eyes, beyond concern or curiosity, a demand to know, an all consuming love. Naomi doesn't even realize she's crying until the salty stream of tears run off her sharp cheekbones and hit the back of her hands that are neatly folded in her lap.

"I—I messed up, Silver," she confesses through a half croak, half whisper. "Really bad this time."

"Naomi, you need to tell me what happened," Silver urges her, now perched on the edge of the bed.

"You won't believe me," Naomi cries. It was so easy with Ethan, him with his unfaltering loyalty and how he's so distant from everything Beverly Hills, but then she thinks about Silver and the way she reacted when she found out the last accusation was nothing more than a lie.

"Let me be the judge of that, alright?" Silver says softly. She reaches out to chase away the drying trail of tears and once her thumb slides across her cheek, Naomi shudders.

"H—he called m—me a tease," Naomi starts, desperately trying to keep her voice even. "He said that I provoked him, th—that I wanted it and maybe, maybe for a second I almost convinced myself that I did. I was so lonely, Silver, and everyone had someone ex—except me…but then he kissed me and I…I said _no_. I didn't want it. I told him I'd tell if he didn't stop, but then he slapped me. He slapped me hard and grabbed me and pressed up against me from behind…and he said it. He said no one would b—believe me because…because…I'm the girl who cried wolf."

Naomi is sobbing and she hates it because this is not her. She isn't this weak girl who let some man who moves his lips in sync to his stupid animal documentaries overpower her. She isn't supposed to be the one crying and in need of comforting. She's Naomi frickin' Clark and the way Silver's looking at her right now makes her feel like anything, but.

"Naomi, sweetie," Silver coos, her own voice wavering. "Did things go farther?"

She's drowning in her own tears and all she can do is nod.

"Nay," Silver says once she's calmed a bit. "That's rape…"

Just saying it leaves a disgusting taste on Silver's tongue and Naomi's body goes ridged once the word pierces the air.

"I really want to hug you right now," Silver says slowly, as if asking for permission.

Naomi tries to smile through her tears and after a moment, she nods again.

Silver slowly moves closer and tentatively wraps her arms around Naomi whose body is shaking uncontrollably. Naomi hesitates a moment, her body grows stiff in another person's arms, but Silver's so careful, so soft and so different from that night in the red dress. Naomi relaxes into her best friend's touch and Silver pulls her tighter. Naomi's eyes slide shut, her head against Silver's shoulder, finally finding some sense of safety apart from being with Ethan.

"I—I said no, Silver," the blonde somehow manages to get out. "I—I said no."

"I believe you," Silver whispers, her lips pressed to wisps of blonde. "I believe you…"

When things start to calm, Naomi's tears have dried, but Silver refuses to leave. Ethan pops in, bumbling and awkward as usual, muttering about how his mom isn't too happy that he spends more nights at Naomi's house than his own. Silver tells him to go, that she'll stay with Naomi for the night and, of course, being Naomi Clark she scoffs at the idea of needing a babysitter. Her eyes tell a different story, though, and when Silver refuses to leave, a little part of Naomi's glad.

They spend the rest of the night, lying side by side in her bed, beneath the cover of darkness.

"You should report it," Silver says, breaking the silence, staring straight up at the ceiling.

"No," Naomi says. It sounds more like defeat than a refusal. "I waited too long. I handled it badly."

"You know it isn't your fault, right?" Silver asks. It's silent until she sees Naomi's chin move up and down in the dark – a nod that makes Silver breathe just a little easier. "And I'm here for you every step of the way. You'll make it back, Nay. It's just going to take some time."

"It doesn't feel that way," Naomi admits. "How can you be so sure, Silver?"

"You're Naomi frickin' Clark," Silver says, because really, that's an answer in itself. "And I know you." Silence follows and Naomi stretches her hand across the mattress, taking Silver's and holding on tight. "Thanks for telling me, Nay."

Naomi shifts and looks her best friend pointblank in the eyes. "Thanks for believing me, S."

…

The three of them are almost inseparable for the rest of the summer. There are even some days when Naomi has to verbally shoo them away, telling Ethan to go spend time with his mother and his brother, reminding Silver of that poor blonde boyfriend of hers. For the most part, it's the three of them together like before starting high school and all that drama about Silver's parents. Ethan and Silver somehow manage to push aside all the tension and coexist for Naomi's sake.

When Naomi finally decides it's best to get tested, Ethan drives and Silver holds her hand in the waiting room. When her results come out clean, putting an end to the fear that their lives really are some melodramatic teenage soap opera with pregnancies and STDs, they go out for ice cream sundaes (which the girls pick at warily and Ethan practically inhales). When Silver brings over a brochure for a woman's resource clinic, Naomi throws it in the trash and Ethan picks it out, placing it back on her desk.

She ends up going a week later on her own accord. Naomi feels she's slowly getting her life back.

…

"I don't know how you talked me into this."

"Must be my charming personality."

"Shut it, Jock Boy."

"Hey, you called me Jock Boy."

Silver scowls, slouching in the front seat of Ethan's car. Her arms are crossed and her gaze is set straight forward. She can feel Ethan's eyes on her, those brown orbs licking the side of her face with such amusement. It's dark out and it also happens to be the first time since that day on her doorstep where they've been in such close quarters without Naomi there to keep the awkward to a minimum.

"We need to be quick," Ethan says. "And try not to be seen."

He reaches into the backseat and grabs a plastic bag; the sound of rattling cans of spray paint comes from within. He pulls out what looks like a ski mask, which turns out to really be a ski mask and holds it out to Silver. Her bright blue eyes shoot from the fabric in his hands to Ethan's face which is completely serious.

"You're kidding yourself if you think I'm wearing that," she says.

"Suit yourself," he says, carelessly tossing it into the backseat. "I just figured you're the type that wants to go to college and, well, what we're about to do isn't going to impress California U."

"Did you just rhyme, Jock—" She catches herself this time and Ethan pretends not to notice. Silver smoothes her fingers through her hair that's grown to the point where it almost touches her shoulders. "It's three in the morning. I think we're good."

"Whatever you say." Ethan pulls a metal object from his pocket and Silver can barely make out what it is with the almost nonexistent lighting in the car. With a flick of his wrist, a blade appears and Silver nearly jumps away from him. "You ready to do this?"

"Ethan, let's just think about this for a second," she suggests.

"I'm not exactly the thinking type if you haven't noticed," he replies.

"Don't I know," she mutters beneath her breath. It takes her a moment to compose herself. "Ethan, what we're about to do is illegal."

"Who was the one that said this Cannon douche bag needs to know he didn't get away with what he did?"

"Well, me, but—"

"—And who said she'd like to castrate the son of a bi—"

"Me, again," Silver sighs.

"—And as great of an idea it was to break into the school and purée the dude's gay sounding animal documentaries Naomi talked about, in a blender, who so cleverly pointed out that the closest thing to actually castrating the guy would be to mess with his car?"

"All you," Silver responds.

"Exactly," Ethan grins proudly. "Now we're sitting here in a rental car that smells like Cheetos and we've already set the plan in motion. There's no going back now. You can sit here and watch me or you can do the castrating." He holds the Swiss army knife out to her. "What's it going to be, Silver?"

She rolls her eyes. "You say 'castration' way too easy. Freud would be appalled."

Ethan blinks back at her. "Who? Did you just try to get fancy saying Fred?"

Silver sighs loudly and mumbles something that sounded a lot like, 'why do I always fall for jocks?' beneath her breath, though she's already halfway out the car so there's no certainty there. She crosses the street that seems to be eerily empty and Ethan follows close behind. Cannon's car is parked beneath a tree with low hanging branches and that only makes things easier. Ethan moves in to slash the tired, but Silver quickly grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him back.

"Wait, Ethan, are you sure it won't set off the alarm?"

He gives her this almost childlike look of guilt that clearly says he hasn't thought of that.

"Paint job first, just to be safe," he suggests. She nods.

Silver shakes the can of spray paint a few times as Ethan stands back, keeping watch. She undoes the cap and presses a finger to the nozzle, letting free a mist of paint. Silver moves her hand up and down, making sure that each letter is prominent and easy to recognize. (What's more direct than fire engine red paint?)

When she's finished, Silver lets Ethan have his way with it. The blade of his Swiss army knife easily punctures each tire that deflates almost immediately. He glides the tip of the blade against the side of the car in long streaks that are just noisy enough to make Silver nervous. Then, finding an empty bottle of beer on the street, Ethan hurls it at the car, surely setting off the alarm.

Silver shouts angrily at Ethan who starts sprinting back to the car without her. She curses and chases after him. They drive away and from what Silver could tell, nervously peering out the tinted windows, no one reacted in time to see that it was them. Her heart is pounding in her chest and she sits back in the passenger seat as Ethan slows down once they've put a good distance between their car and Cannon's, a wicked grin on his face.

"You are an idiot, Jock Boy," Silver growls, using her nickname for him and not even caring anymore.

"That was honestly the most fun I've had in a long time," he admits. "More fun than cow tipping."

Silver snorts. "Cow tipping?"

"Don't knock it till you try it," Ethan warns. Silver rolls her eyes, failing to fight a smile.

It's quiet, the two of them still trying to come down from their adrenaline high. Neither even really notices how comfortable things have become, how he even mentioned Montana and she didn't flinch. Ethan will steal little glances at Silver, accompanied with a smile and Silver will pretend to be annoyed and remind herself not to smile back. Ethan easily pulls up in her driveway and shuts off the engine, sighing and relaxing his tense shoulders as he does so.

"Who knew I'd actually enjoy petty crime, huh?"

"Ah, it's an acquired taste." Ethan smiles.

"Are you going back to Naomi?" she asks. No jealousy. No undisclosed motives. Just a question.

"She said she wanted to tough it out alone tonight and I respect that." Ethan nods.

"Ethan, that day you came over to tell me about Nay, I…I'm sorry how I treated you," Silver says. She inwardly cursing because she's never been the best with articulating apologies. "But you were right. I was being a crappy friend."

"You weren't being a crappy friend, Silver," he assures her. "And I didn't mean to sound hostile or whatever. I just…Naomi just told me and I didn't know how to help her. I was having a hard time dealing with it myself."

_And it didn't help that you were obviously fooling around with some guy – oh, your new boyfriend – inside seconds before I showed up, _Ethan's head adds, but his mouth refuses to verbalize (with good reason).

"Well, I'm glad you came to me," she says.

"Yeah, me too."

And it's only then that the two notice how close they are, how easy it would be to eliminate that remaining space, how there's almost a magnetic force willing them together. Silver can't help that her gaze falls to his lips before moving back to his brown eyes and Ethan can't help, but notice. Surprising the both of them, Ethan's the one who leans away. It seems they've found themselves in a familiar predicament with his feelings and her having a boyfriend. Ethan won't make that move, not again.

"I guess I should go," Silver says. Ethan pretends he didn't hear the disappointment in her voice.

"I lied," Ethan says just as Silver gets the door open. She settles back in her seat and looks over at him. His lips are pressed into a line and one corner pulls back, higher than the other. "I lied when I said I wanted to be something more or I didn't want to be anything. We can be friends, can't we?"

It takes Silver a moment. It seems he's always springing these sort of things on her.

"Friends. Of course," she says, slightly flustered. "Well, goodnight, Ethan."

"Goodnight, Silver," he says. Ethan watches her get safely inside before he starts up the engine again.

He now knows they weren't ready last time and they still aren't ready now. Ethan doesn't know when they will be or if they ever will be, but in that moment, he decides being something is always better than being nothing.

In the morning, there's a picture of a defaced car on the front page of the newspaper, angry, bold letters spell out _wolf_, over and over, all across the car's exterior except for the slightly cracked windshield that has _RAPIST_ in big letters, staining the glass. Naomi sees it, but doesn't mention it. Silver and Ethan exchange knowing smiles.

…

"I'll stay if you want me to," Ethan says. "Just say the word, Nay."

"No, I think Montana did you good, Ward. If we learned anything this summer it's that we make our own decisions and if you think it's better for you being in the land of the lame then more power to yah," Naomi says, standing out in front of the airport. "It's a shame Silver didn't come out to see you off."

"We already said our goodbyes," he says, "ironically, via text."

"God, I want to root for you two so badly, but your idiocy makes it hard," Naomi says, smiling. "You'll be home for Christmas, right?"

He nods. "Right."

"I'd rather see you Thanksgiving, but I'll take what I can get," she says. Naomi holds out her arms and Ethan looks at her cautiously. She rolls her eyes and moves forward, bringing her arms around his neck as he wraps an arm around the small of her back. Laying her face against his flannel shirt, Naomi murmurs, "Thank you for everything, Ethan."

"You did most of the work," he says. "All I really did was stand around and look pretty all summer."

"Oh, how right you are," Naomi says, giving him another squeeze before pulling back and smiling. She isn't beaming, but it's a step up from those fake smiles she'd give him at the beginning of the summer. "Try not to miss me too much, alright?"

"Easier said than done," he says. "So I'll call you went I get in."

"Alright. Have a safe flight."

Naomi stands a moment and watches as Ethan gives her one last wave, a wink and a grin before finally joining the sea of people in the airport and blurring away. Honestly, Naomi doesn't know what she'd do without that boy, her first love, the Prodigal Jock Boy.

…

When school starts up again and Naomi is walking the halls of West Bev with Silver at her side, the firing of Principal Wilson does come as a shock, but she isn't very surprised to hear Mr. Cannon has broken free from his contract and fled town. She's getting looks again, but she only narrows her eyes slightly and keeps pushing forward. Everyone can go fuck themselves if they think she's standing up on a stupid chair in the cafeteria and explaining herself a second time. Fuck that. It wasn't her fault. She said no.

After all, she is Naomi frickin' Clark, head bitch of West Bev, and she isn't just going to have it all back, but in time she's going to have better.

* * *

**Author's note**: That's right. I went there. I think I needed this after the finale. It was hard to write, I'll admit. What did everyone else think of it? Review, please.


End file.
